It's irony, mate
by Pen-or-Sword
Summary: Carter has a bad feeling, but nobody wants to listen to him. It's an easy mission after all and the heroes have done this before hundreds of times. What can go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any Hogan's Heroes characters.

* * *

Chapter I

A well-functioning alarm system is priceless, but equally indispensable.

The first one to notice the new arrival was Sergeant Roades. He lifted his cap in the manner previously agreed upon, but Carter didn't take notice. Sergeant Andrew Carter was staring into space, obviously far away with his thoughts in the middle of a daydream. Keagan Roades sighed. The things about the spy game he considered exceptionally grand, were the secret signs they used for signaling each other and the idea that sometimes the guards saw them, but still didn't get what they were supposed to mean. The waiting around was not that popular, let alone the danger. Roades shook his head at the killjoy. _That Carter disconnected the chain of signals by a daydream is simply dumb._ Sergeant Roades put two fingers into his mouth and sounded a piercing whistle as alternative signal, a special one for Carter. With a start the American returned back to earth. Finally, he looked at the Irish Sergeant who lifted his cap again like he had done before. Carter nodded and walked away with the message that Klink had guests.

"We got company," Carter announced while entering Barracks 2, "where's the Colonel?"

"_Le colonel _is in his office," came the answer from LeBeau. He was standing near the stove and had just begun to prepare dinner.

"Thanks, pal." Carter walked right over to the Colonel's personal quarters, also known as his office, and knocked at the door.

Colonel Hogan looked up from his book. He had been trying to read this particular one for quite a while now and was once more interrupted by a tapping at the door. Mission after mission had forced him to postpone his readings, but because he was not the type who gives up easily he had started this same book for the twelfth time now. "Come in," Hogan said, trying not to sound too annoyed as he guessed he would have to delay his mystery novel once more.

Carter opened the door as soon as he heard his commanding officer give him permission to enter.

"Yes, what is it, Carter?" Hogan asked.

"A staff car just arrived, sir. Looks important. They headed straight for Klink's office."

Colonel Hogan put away his mystery novel and patted the back of the book lightly. _I reckon we have our own mystery to solve then_. "Alright. Get the others."

"You got it, boy, eh, sir." Carter whirled around and was just about to rush off when he bumped into Kinch and Newkirk.

"Hey, careful there," Kinch exclaimed.

"You break it you buy it, mate," Newkirk smirked, "we heard the blow of the whistle, sir, and saw the staff car drive into camp."

Carter, Kinch and Newkirk walked into Colonel Hogan's office, followed by LeBeau who had taken a second longer in order to prevent his cooking from burning on the stove.

Another dark-haired head appeared in the door, it was Roades. He carried an expecting smile on his face that vanished when he heard his CO order, "Watch the door, Sergeant."

Roades tried to keep his expression neutral to hide his disappointment. _I'm new, sure, I've not been part of any important mission so far. All opportunity I've been given to prove myself were simple watch-outs. But those I've done well._ Roades started for the barracks' door and his next watch-out mission, resigning himself to admire Colonel Hogan's core crew from afar.

"Oh, and well done, Roades," Hogan said.

That these simple words caused such a reaction surprised even the experienced Colonel. Roades' blue eyes sparkled and he began to sputter, "yes, sir. Thank you, sir, could I maybe ..."

"OK, but now watch the door," the CO interrupted him. Hogan studied Roades as he walked away. The Colonel had almost forgotten what it had been like when he was the young Sergeant's age; ready to prove himself. He really had to be more careful what he said to this eager Irishman, but he had to give him a chance as well. But now was definitely not the time.

Colonel Hogan's core group scattered throughout the room. Which was small enough anyway, considering it had to serve as Hogan's private quarters, Papa Bear's HQ, strategic planning centre and sometimes infirmary. Newkirk and Carter took a seat on the bottom bunk, LeBeau and Kinch stood closer to the desk.

Kinch set up the coffee pot while the rest of the men made themselves comfortable. "Let's hear what they've got for us today," he said and plugged it in.

"What a nice surprise! General Burkhalter, I didn't know you would visit here today." Kommandant Klink proclaimed joyfully.

"Of course you didn't. I haven't told you," Burkhalter said, clearly not sharing Klink's delight in the meeting. On the contrary, visiting Stalag 13 almost always seemed equivalent to trouble, for some obscure reason. He would rather have stayed in Berlin, but unfortunately had no say in the matter.

"Yes, yes, of course, of course." Klink agreed, anxious to stay as cheerful as he could, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Shut up, Klink," Burkhalter ordered, becoming increasingly annoyed.

"Yes, shutting up, sir, shutting up," Klink repeated before he was eventually quiet.

General Burkhalter took a deep breath and counted to ten before he felt ready to deal with the Kommandant again. "This is Major Kießling, Klink. Major Kießling is currently on a top-secret mission. Part of this mission is to deliver this safely to Berlin. But first we have a joint business engagement in Hammelburg. Until our business is completed the Major will use Stalag as a base camp. I suggested this because of the relative safety from getting bombed by the Allies," Burkhalter explained as if he was speaking to a child and added before Klink was able to voice any form of protest, "and you will accommodate him, Klink!"

"Yes, of course," the Oberst said meekly and turned to his new guest, "welcome to Stalag 13, Major Kießling."

"Thank you, Kommandant," the officer replied absent-mindedly. He had paid barely any attention to the previous conversation because he had other, more important things to think about. "I have a few papers with me that have to be kept safe. I'd prefer not to carry them around longer than necessary. Especially not at Hammelburg that is for sure crawling with spies. Is there a place in this camp where you can secure them for me?"

"_Heureusement,_ there isn't a single spy in Stalag 13," scoffed LeBeau and relished the grinning faces around him.

"Shhhh," hissed Hogan, smiling himself.

"Of course. I can put them into my safe right away," Klink said happily. He enjoyed that it was him and not General Burkhalter whom Kießling had asked to take care of his secret and certainly vital papers. "You will find my camp most secure," he babbled on, "we have never had a single escape from Stalag 13, if I may say so myself."

"You would!" Burkhalter shot back, seriously irritated to hear Klink say this very sentence for the millionth time.

"So we have some goodies in the safe," Colonel Hogan said while Kinch put away the coffee pot. "Kinch, notify London of our visitor and his important papers. Ask for information on this Kießling character and if they have any idea what he is doing."

"Right away, sir," the American Sergeant answered and left for what he had come to consider his personal office: the radio room in the tunnel.

"Tonight we have a little work to do," the CO said to his remaining men. "Newkirk," Hogan turned to face the safe cracker under his command.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied, eyes shining brightly because he already knew what his task for tonight would be.

"You think you can open that safe of Klink's tonight and take photos of the papers?" the Colonel asked out of habit.

"Piece of cake, sir," Newkirk replied with a grin from ear to ear, "as good as done."

"OK, then that's settled," Hogan said, pleased with the prospect of an easy mission for once.

"But who is going with him, _mon colonel_?" LeBeau asked, astonished that the matter seemed to be closed already.

"Yeah, you can't send him on his own, somebody has to watch his back," Carter piped up. "Boy, what if he gets caught?"

"Don't you think one man is a little less conspicuous when he walks across the compound in the middle of the night than two men, let alone the five of us?" Kinch remarked.

"That's right, thank you, Kinch," Colonel Hogan answered instead of Carter and explained patiently, "our beloved Kommandant will probably entertain his guest Major Kießling in his quarters tonight. We wait till the lights go out and everybody goes to bed. Then Newkirk gets us the information. It will all be done in a few minutes. Nothing to worry about."

"Yes, chaps, no trouble at all, we've done that before loads of times, remember?" Newkirk put one hand on Carter's shoulder and patted him lightly to reassure him, but it didn't have the desired effect.

Carter seemed to shrink a little into himself, "I've got a strange feeling about this." He jumped to his feet all of a sudden. "What if he gets caught this time?!" Carter burst out.

Everybody looked at Carter in astonishment. He usually wasn't the one playing devil's advocate. That was Newkirk's part. But as self-confident as Newkirk felt when it came to his own abilities and skills of shadier nature, he could not find a reason to doubt himself.

"OK, that's enough. It's gonna be done as I said. Newkirk, you take the pictures and develop the film. That takes what, about an hour? Then report back to me," the CO said in a commanding tone, not harsh but making clear that there was no room left for further objections. Colonel Hogan was not in the mood to defend his decision any longer nor to discuss something that they had done hundreds of times before without any problems.

"Yes, piece of pie," Carter muttered under his breath.

"Piece of cake, mate, it's cake," Newkirk said to his mate and smiled at him. "Don't worry Andrew, it's gonna be fine."

~ccOɔɔ~

The compound had grown silent quite a while ago. The inhabitants of Barracks 2 were all in their beds fast asleep, except for one pair of green eyes that could be seen shimmering brightly whenever they reflected the light coming from the compound. Newkirk sat silently at the window and watched for the moment when the lights in Klink's personal quarters would be turned off. When the whole building finally went dark, the Corporal kept watching for a few more minutes just to make sure Klink and Major Kießling had snuggled down in their beds.

Newkirk got up from his window place and walked to the barracks' door. He barely caused any sound on the wooden floor, but Carter woke up nonetheless. Just when Newkirk slipped through the door, the American breathed as if to himself, "good luck," and to his surprise, heard his friend whisper back, "ta, mate."

Carter was sure he wouldn't go back to sleep before Peter had returned safe and sound and was lying on the bunk above him. In the meantime only Newkirk's side cap was resting on the top bunk.

It was hardly a problem for the Englishman to cross the compound undetected by the searchlights and unnoticed by any German guards. Newkirk reached the Kommandantur in no time. He took the three steps leading up to the porch light-footedly, then turned right and ambled to the nearest window. "Piece of cake," he said almost soundlessly. The window offered hardly any resistance as the Corporal carefully slid his pencil sharpener into the small chink between the two sashes and pushed up the locking mechanism; it swung open almost on its own.

Satisfied, Newkirk climbed through the window and made sure he left it only slightly open. He stood still for a moment to give his eyes the chance to adjust to their dark surroundings. When Newkirk felt ready, he walked over to the safe and kneeled down in front of it. "Hello, me old scallywags, it's only me again, your mate Peter," he whispered. The English Corporal put his hands gently on the safe to get the right feeling for it.

He jumped. A sudden noise in the outer office startled him to the core. Newkirk was on his feet in a flash and whirled around. _Bugger!_ He inhaled sharply, trying to decide what to do. There was no way to get out of there in time, he was trapped.

* * *

I hope you liked the first chapter.

I'd like to thank a few people:

thanks to Oele and Tr00he for offering an opinion and encouragement.

Thanks to Flow Ryan for providing the French whenever LeBeau wants to say something.

Thanks to Corinna and Johanna for adding more language skill.

And very special thanks to Venea Taur for beta reading, patiently supplying help and advice. Thank you so much. You are the best!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kommandant Klink gazed at the ceiling of his bedroom, or rather he stared into black nothingness. It was too dark to make out any outlines of the drearily furnished room. He was lying in his bed, alone. Strange as it seemed for a man like him, Klink had hoped for company. General Burkhalter and Major Kießling had left for Hammelburg in the afternoon and had not come back since. They were probably out on the town having plenty of fun, without him. Klink's imagination placed Burkhalter in Hilda's Hofbräu. He could see the General laughing and joking with a pretty girl, who was sitting on his lap.

Klink had had planned so much for his guests: a nice dinner, a good conversation and a private concert on his beloved violin. But as the evening became increasingly late and his guests didn't return, Klink gave up on waiting. He had dinner alone. He played a little concert all for himself. And then the Kommandant made a decision. It could also have been connected to a visit from Hogan earlier. The American Colonel's words - seize the night and go for it - had taken a while to find their way into Klink's decision-making process. Anyway, the Oberst arrived at the conclusion that he didn't need Major Kießling and even less Burkhalter to enjoy the evening. Klink decided that he could very well paint the town red, as Hogan had phrased it, without them.

Klink ordered a private to chauffeur him in his staff car because he wanted to go in style to a new pub. The Oberst had heard many compliments about the owner. She was a beautiful woman, a widow and new in town. Now was Klink's opportunity to meet her.

She exceeded all his expectations. Her shoulder-long hair garlanded her head like a floral wreath. Klink had to call up all his strength to keep himself from reaching out his hand and diving into the beautiful brunette curls. He thought she had something angelic about her that others had probably viewed as cheeky charm. Klink's gaze followed her every move. She looked as if she was dancing between her guests, elegant and quick at the same time. It was love at the first sight, at least on his part. Klink breathed her name over and over again, Charlotte, oh Charlotte.

It didn't help. She served him as friendly as any other guest, but that was all she did. Whenever he had tried to get close to her, she hurried off. When he gave her compliments, he was given brush-offs.

Disappointed with the outcome of the evening, Klink went back home to Stalag 13 and there he was now, alone. He couldn't sleep. But it wouldn't help to stare at the ceiling and wallow in self-pity. The Kommandant decided to do some more paper work in his office. This dull task was better for falling asleep than the highest number of sheep anyone could ever count.

Before Oberst Klink could switch on the light in his outer office, he fell over something that caused a loud rattle. The Kommandant struggled to his feet. He smoothed down his clothes and soothed his hurting shins. The object that had the impudence to attack him was a bucket left in the middle of the way. "What is it with these prisoners?" Klink muttered, "is it too hard for them to tidy up and put away the things they used? Or are they just too stupid to get anything right? Or maybe someone left it there on purpose to hurt me!"

~ccOɔɔ~

Newkirk jumped. The sudden noise in the outer office made his heart skip a beat. He was on his feet in a flash and whirled around. _Bugger!_ The Corporal inhaled sharply, trying to decide what to do. There was no way to get out of there in time, he was trapped.

He quickly picked up a few random items from Klink's desk and shoved them into his pockets: a little notepad, two pencils and three paper clips. _When I'm about to get caught then at least for stealing some of Klink's stuff rather than military information. Maybe I keep a head on my shoulders that way_. _Doesn't make much of a loot, though._

The door flew open. Newkirk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned around slowly to face his capturer.

An extremely surprised Kommandant Klink stood in the doorframe. He had to take two seconds to get his wits about him again. "What are you doing here, Corporal?!" he asked sharply. Before Newkirk could even think of anything to say Klink ordered, "Take two steps back from my desk and stay there!" Newkirk obeyed.

The English Corporal stood in the middle of the room. His eyes flickered nervously. He couldn't fully suppress the fidgeting that his hands displayed either. As he was unable to act casually, Newkirk chose the second best option. He came to attention and focused his gaze on a spot at eyelevel on the opposite wall.

Klink marched over to the window, opened it and yelled, "Guards! Guards!"

A few moments later Sergeant Schultz stood in the door and stammered between gasping for breath, "you... called, ...Herr ...Kommandant." Then he spotted the Englishman. "Newkirk, what... are you doing here?" Schultz asked with a confused look.

"Get Colonel Hogan here at once!" snarled Klink.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said. He looked at Newkirk reproachfully. _Why can't this boy manage to keep out of trouble; for his own sake?_ While Schultz waddled out of the Kommandantur, he could hear Klink yelling at Newkirk. The overweight guard hastened his step as best he could. The sooner Colonel Hogan was present the better.

Schultz entered Barracks 2, switched on the light and walked straight over to Hogan's quarters. He didn't bother to stop or comment on the muttered complaints of the prisoners, whose dreams he obviously had disturbed. The Feldwebel wasn't even surprised when he found Colonel Hogan fully dressed.

"This is serious," was the only thing Schultz found to say.

"I know," responded Hogan.

The uproar could be heard from afar. When Colonel Hogan and Schultz reached the office, Newkirk was still at his place two steps away from the desk. He stood straight as a post, as if he had swallowed the very thing, and stared straight ahead. Newkirk had decided it was the best to let Klink fire his verbal attacks at him without making a sound or even showing any kind of reaction. He allowed the insults and threats to pass him.

Kommandant Klink abruptly stopped his yelling at the Englishman when he noticed Colonel Hogan.

"I caught your Corporal in my office. It's your responsibility to watch your men. Especially when they show criminal tendencies," Klink shot at Hogan, "I want you to watch this."

Klink turned to Newkirk. "Corporal," he ordered, "empty your pockets. Now!"

Newkirk pulled, piece by piece, the things he had taken from Klink's desk out of his pockets and put them back on the desk. The Englishman had gotten over the initial shock enough to reveal nothing but a blank expression on his face. He was ready though to immediately go along with anything his CO was about to say.

Hogan opened his mouth, but was cut off before he could utter the slightest sound.

"I was right about that!" blared Klink.

"This man is a disgrace, Hogan! And you are to blame for it, too!" the Kommandant roared, "you have a criminal under your command. This will have consequences for both of you!"

At that, Newkirk shuddered slightly.

"Your thieving Englander has been caught in my office once before. I left his punishment to you and you assured me that he gave everything he stole back and showed regret. And yet, here he is, trying to steal again! This thug has not learned his lesson. Your punishment had no lasting effect. You failed badly in disciplining your man, Hogan."

With the word 'lesson' Newkirk's thoughts drifted off. Images appeared in his mind of numerous lessons people had tried to teach him before. Some officers other than Colonel Hogan and teachers at school had used questionable methods to make him behave the way they wanted him to; with variable success.

But today was different. Today Newkirk was certain that his CO was able to protect him.

Suddenly Klink stopped raving. The Kommandant felt exhausted and wasn't in the mood any longer to talk about this thieving prisoner.

"We will talk about this tomorrow morning. Then I will hold a trial against Corporal Newkirk."

The Englishman swallowed hard. _A trial? Blimey, am I in trouble._

Klink turned to the American Colonel and went on, "I strongly advise you to take additional consequences. Iron discipline, Hogan, that's the key to leadership."

Without waiting for an answer Klink addressed Schultz, "Take this felon where he belongs, a solitary cell in the cooler."

"You're dismissed," the Kommandant said to Hogan. The iron look on Klink's face made everybody understand the matter was closed for the day.

Schultz took hold of Newkirk's arm and gently led him out of the office. Colonel Hogan followed them outside. He didn't salute. But who would waste a thought to military protocol at this time?

"What has just happened?" Schultz asked Hogan, "you haven't said a single word." The Feldwebel looked as puzzled as he felt. Schultz was used to that state of being. But it was for sure something new for the quick-witted American to be caught off guard, especially by Klink. Hogan was taken aback enough that he remained silent.

The only one who regained most of his senses as soon as they stepped outside was Newkirk. He slipped the miniature camera that had been hidden in one of his more secret pockets into his CO's jacket pocket. Neither Hogan nor Schultz noticed. Newkirk didn't get the chance, however, to get rid of his pencil sharpener and his lock picks. Before he could attempt to place them on Hogan, Schultz had turned him around in direction of the cooler and walked him off.

The Englishman allowed the German Feldwebel to lead him away without making a fuss. But he still turned his head towards Hogan for as long as he could without breaking his neck. The CO and Newkirk's eyes met for a short time. The Corporal tried to read his Colonel's face but couldn't make much of what he took for a mixture of anger, astonishment and disbelief. Hogan either didn't try to send him a silent message or Newkirk was unable to decipher it.

* * *

I know it's not like the Klink we know. But I thought he had the right to get really angry for once, too. But let's see what Colonel Hogan does the next morning when he gets the chance to act as Newkirk's lawyer during the "trial".

Many thanks to Veana Taur! She is the best!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Schultz guided Newkirk to the cooler in complete silence. Neither uttered a word. He unlocked the cell door and waited for the Corporal to step inside. The German Feldwebel knew that with Newkirk it was never necessary to use force. The Englishman would go into the cell and usually adorn the situation with this rascally smile of his. But Schultz wasn't able to let him get away with it - not this time. Before Newkirk could perform his little show, Feldwebel Schultz intensified the grip on the younger man's arm and turned him around so he could speak with him face to face.

"What have you done, Newkirk?" Schultz asked. As much as he wanted to scold this boy, he couldn't manage to encumber his voice with reproach. The Feldwebel was one of the persons who lack the talent to feign. The caring father-eyes in the big man's face gave him away. They revealed worry rather than anger. Newkirk silently appreciated Schultz's concern. A lecture was the last thing that the Corporal wanted to hear right now anyway.

Newkirk responded quietly, "I know, Schultzie. I'm in big trouble, aren't I?" and yawned. It had been a long day and an even longer night for him. Standing at attention while Klink yelled at him, didn't help either.

"The biggest trouble, " emphasized Schultz. He wondered if this Engländer with his hands stuck in his trouser pockets took the situation seriously at all. The father of five made a stern face.

"_Stealing_. Neeewkiiiirk," Schultz prolonged the Corporal's name as if this was the only way to make him realize the full gravity of his deed. "You better ask God for forgiveness at least."

Newkirk raised his eyebrows. _Really? There's a redeeming bit of advice, mate. He brings God in. That's all I bloody needed._ He smirked, "I never knew, Schultzie. I didn't take you for a religious man." Newkirk nonchalantly walked into the cell. He thought he had parried the ambush with the praying thing very skillfully.

"You don't know a lot of things," Schultz remarked.

Newkirk didn't give an answer and Schultz closed the cell door. The Englishman just stood there in his grim cell. His eyes were fixed on the shut door, while he listened to the clack sound Schultz caused when he turned around the key.

~ccOɔɔ~

When Colonel Hogan returned to Barracks 2 he saw what he expected. All eyes were on him. His men openly stared at him, some kept their expressions blank at best, others looked vexed.

"Alright, you don't have to say it," Hogan broke the silence, "I blew it. Newkirk got caught stealing." The CO took a seat at the common room table before he continued to fill in his team, "they put him in the cooler for the night. Tomorrow Klink will decide on a punishment."

"Don't blame yourself, Colonel," Kinch tried to console Hogan, "it worked many times before."

LeBeau shot an angry glare at Kinch and snapped, "but not this time_, no_?! _Putain de merde_!"

Kinch ignored LeBeau's ongoing muttered curses in French and addressed the Colonel in an even tone, "What exactly happened in Klink's office, sir?"

Hogan thought for a second before he answered, "I'm not all that certain myself. I've had no chance to talk to Newkirk alone just yet. Fact is...," the Colonel paused once more before he compiled the pieces of information that he had, "When I arrived at Klink's office, he was yelling at Newkirk, but the safe was closed. There were no papers lying around, except the usual."

"So Newkirk didn't get to open the safe before Klink caught him," Kinch concluded.

"That's good, isn't it?" Carter chimed in, "maybe you can convince..."

"Caught is still the right word," Colonel Hogan interrupted. "Newkirk was still caught in the act. When Klink made him empty his pockets Newkirk produced a few items that were obviously nicked from Klink's desk."

"He must have thought it was better than having Klink think he was after something else," LeBeau said slowly.

Colonel Hogan nodded, "yeah, but it doesn't give me much room to invent a story to bail him out either. Getting caught with the goodies is as good as a confession. And there is another problem, too. We still need to get this information and fast, before the Major leaves again. Newkirk's the only one who can open the safe."

LeBeau thought he had heard wrong. How could the Colonel think about that damn safe when Newkirk was sitting in the cooler. _Comment pouvait-il penser à ce maudit truc-là!_ LeBeau joined Carter in staring at the floor, which the Sergeant had stubbornly been doing since he had found himself ignored.

"OK folks, there is nothing we can do now. All back to bed," said Hogan, walked to his quarters and closed the door behind him.

The men slowly started to settle back to bed. Nobody was in a particular rush to go back to sleep after a commotion like this.

Carter looked over to LeBeau. He blurted out, "boy, do you think I jinxed it? I said he shouldn't go alone and the Colonel made him go anyway. I said it could go wrong this time. Gee, I had such a bad feeling about this and I wished him good luck. What if this has turned to bad luck and ..."

"Hold it," Kinch responded calmly before LeBeau could get in a word. "You didn't cause any of this, if that was what you were trying to say." He gently grasped Carter's shoulder and gave it a friendly joggle. Carter half expected that Kinch would hug him. But instead, the Staff Sergeant said, "we better do as the Colonel said and go back to bed."

Carter nodded, but wasn't convinced. He wished Newkirk was there. Despite Newkirk's teasing and moods, Carter still chose his English pal over all others to confide in.

"Sir?" said an uneasy voice.

Kinch automatically looked over his shoulder and fully expected to see Colonel Hogan come out of his quarters. But no CO was to be spotted.

"Uh, sir? Excuse me for bothering you with this," Roades tried again, his eyes fixed on Kinch. There was no mistake about it. The "sir" meant to address the American Sergeant. Kinch raised one eyebrow in astonishment. The word sir was certainly rare around here when Colonel Hogan wasn't present.

Kinch answered Roades with a smile, but said nothing. He thanked his skin color that it hid blushing. Otherwise, he would have displayed the same pink tone Carter's face turned from time to time. A thought that made him smile even more.

Roades still focused on Kinch, unaware that his presentation of military protocol had caught the attention of all the inhabitants of Barracks 2.

"That line sure sounds funny: Sergeant Kinchloe, sir!," mocked LeBeau and chuckled about his own joke.

Alarmed at LeBeau's remark, Roades hastened to say, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. Honest. You're a Staff Sergeant and I just tried to pay respect to the higher rank. That's all." _And to the fact that you are Colonel Hogan's right-hand man_ he added in thoughts.

Kinch gave LeBeau a severe look to warn him off, then turned towards young Roades. "Relax. I never thought anything different. You can call me Kinch. Everybody does," the American paused to laugh. "Technically I'm higher ranking than Newkirk and LeBeau and they'd never get the idea to address me with sir. Even _Carter_ is higher ranking than them."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" an appalled Carter piped up. He stroked gently with his hand along his sleeve over where his Tech Sergeant stripes ought to be before he remembered that his pajamas didn't have those.

Kinch pursed his lips to suppress another laugh.

"Nothing, Carter. Let's just say we're not that GI around here." LeBeau aided Kinch.

Carter frowned at the two of them. He suspected some kind of insult, but could not quite nail down what it was. The good-natured American decided to leave it at that and redirect his attention to the boy with the sirs, "Your name's Keith, right?"

Amused Roades answered him, "Keagan, actually. Keagan Roades."

"Oh," Carter made a disappointed face, "I would have liked Keith, I knew a boy when I went to school whose name was Keith..."

"Yeah. Never mind. You can tell us about him tomorrow," Kinch cut off Carter's beginning of a new story, "What did you want to know?"

"What do you think is going to happen now? To Newkirk , I mean? Do you think Klink would hand him over the Gestapo?" Roades' eyes became round.

"Gestapo. _Animals_!," LeBeau spit out the words.

"Unlikely. Old blood and guts hates the Gestapo. They scare the daylights out of him. He only likes to threaten us with them when he's at his wit's end, but he wouldn't hand one of us over to them. Not for a theft, anyway." Kinch concluded, "but Newkirk might face a long time in a solitary cell."

"That's very likely indeed. Poor Pierre," LeBeau said and shook his head.

"Nothing anyone can do about it now. Let's hit the hay," Kinch's practical side reasoned, but he too glanced at the empty bunk above Carter's before the lights were switched off.

Keagan Roades tried to find a spot on his lumpy mattress that was comfortable enough to be accepted. More or less succeeding with his effort and lying in his favorite position for falling asleep, on his stomach, he was ready for dreamland. With his eyes closed, he waited. Roades was looking forward to forgetting the world around him for a few hours. The few hours that were still left until morning roll call after these extracurricular activities of the night.

_A very long stay in the cooler. That's what he said. As if this wasn't anything new to them. Well, it can't be with all the stunts they're pulling. They probably all get their fair share of trips to the gaol._

Roades gave up his plans to sleep right away because he just couldn't, no matter how tired he felt. He turned around on his back, slowly to prevent the wooden slats under his mattress from creaking. The Irishman heard his barracks' mates snore peacefully as if nothing had happened. He couldn't help but feel a bit sore about the others sleeping already, but didn't want to wake them either.

He had thought a whole lot about Hogan's core crew since he had learned about their mission. As unlikely as everything had seemed at first, the tunnel had given him good and touchable proof that they were not just having a go at him. Roades was especially fascinated with their leader, Colonel Hogan, who was capable to come up with a witty plan for every seemingly impossible task. But also Newkirk, who had, quite literally, an ace up his sleeve at all time.

Roades had decided without any doubt that he didn't want to sit at a production line down in the tunnels fabricating cigarette lighters that looked like guns. He wanted to be one of Hogan's heroes instead. He wanted to go out with them on their missions. He would probably only play a minor role but didn't care. He had been certain about it, until now.

_Maybe dad's right after all. Reality is no game. And I'm just a kid who wants to play hero. Now that Newkirk's in the cooler. Klink's barking mad. Maybe I've been a little bit hasty about that whole hero thing._

In his two weeks in Stalag 13 Roades had been lucky enough to be spared much experience with the cooler, but one thing he knew for sure, this place wasn't pleasant.

_And what if I actually make it and Colonel Hogan takes me on a mission? What if we get caught and interrogated by the Gestapo?_

Roades shut his eyes fast. But immediately opened them again and shook his head. He tried very hard not to imagine what he had been told those people were capable of doing to prisoners.

_Would I really be able to keep my mouth shut no matter what? I've fought a cause that isn't even mine or is it? I've been captured and now stuck in this bleeding prison camp. I've gone through enough. I've done my share, I can just lean back and let others fight the rest of the war. Nobody can actually blame me for that, can they?_

* * *

_Putain de merde_! fucking shit

_Comment pouvait-il penser à ce maudit truc-là!_ How can he think about this damn thing now

* * *

Thank you Veana Taur for the fabulous help. :D

Thank you Flow Ryan for providing the French. ;)

It's a long night for Hogan's heroes

Opinions?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Newkirk stared at the door for minutes; it remained locked. He sat down on the cot and sighed. _Oh, the heck with it! Not exactly the first time I spent a bit of time in here. _The Englishman rolled on his back and closed his eyes. _As good a time to sleep as any._

He heard himself breathe as he inhaled the moldy, stale air. Newkirk opened his eyes again and gazed at the door. A weak beam of light fell through the window and painted shadows of bars on the steel door. Newkirk started to drum his fingers against the wall next to him. _Now's a good time to sleep, it is. Who knows what's in store for me tomorrow._

_Bloody hell. Alright._ The Corporal abruptly sat up and slid off the cot down on his knees. His body fidgeted briefly until he found a comfortable enough kneeling position. _What's that kneeling good for anyway?_ Newkirk clasped his hands. He took a deep breath and with a long sigh released it again.

"Good. Here we go," he whispered. "Dear God..." Newkirk let his hands fall and shook his head. _I must be daft._ _OK, this really can't make it worse now, can it, if I give it a crack?_ He folded his hands again. "Dear God. Um. It's been a while, sorry for that. I'm not very good at this thing, as it were. Guess you know what I've been up to, being almighty and all. I've broken a few Commandments. Can't even remember which numbers that were."

Newkirk paused for a moment. With a stronger voice he said, "O.K., straight talk now. I'm a thief and a liar. Always have been. Blimey, that sounds pretty rotten. But at least I've always had my principles. I've never stolen from my mates and never from people what were poor either. And here I thought I couldn't make it any worse." He shifted his weight from one knee to the other and back again.

"Dear God, you know I tried to be a better person. Left it all behind me when I joined the RAF. But when Colonel Hogan asked me to use my, um, talents I couldn't say no, now, could I? It's the only stuff I know. With what else could someone like me support a crew like that one? And fine lads they are." Newkirk smiled to himself. _My best mates they are._

The English Corporal rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, can't you just overlook the stealing and lying for a while? As long as it's for the higher cause, that is. I reckon I helped England and the Allies more under Colonel Hogan's command than I could ever have if I were still flying. I promise when the war is over I'll make an honest living. I keep my word."

"Ahem hem."

Newkirk tried to get on his feet, but his hurting knees failed him. He plopped down on his bum. The Englishman turned towards the only direction the sound could have come from. He saw Schultz peeking through the tiny window in the door.

_You've given me a darn good fright. Not sure how many more I can take in one night._

_Just how long have you been standing there?_

Schultz unlocked the door and opened it. He held a mug in his hand and a blanket hung over his arm. Newkirk remained seated and listened to the Feldwebel's heavy tread on the concrete floor.

_How come I didn't hear these footsteps. Kind of hard to miss._

"I brought you something," Schultz stated.

"I can see that." Newkirk got on his feet and peered into the mug. With a big smile on his face he remarked, "Schultzie, I didn't know you were an expert for tea." Before the German could open his mouth to comment on that, the Corporal added, "Yes, I remember, I don't know a lot of things." He inhaled the scent of the brown liquid. "Peppermint. And what else?"

"It's _Pfefferminze, Melisse und Kamille_, and sugar of course."

"Of course," Newkirk smirked, "but I'm not ill, Schultzie. My stomach's doing fine. No worries there." _Rather in other respects, that is._

Schultz held his free hand over his big belly. "A stomach ache. _Das fehlte gerade noch._ No, it's to calm the nerves. I always gave this to my children when they couldn't sleep. I figured, well, now don't make me change my mind. Drink it and then go to sleep."

"Thanks, Schultzie." Newkirk took the mug out of the Feldwebel's hand and started to sip the tea. It had cooled down a little on the way to the cooler, but was just about right. The Englishman paused and stared into the mug.

"Something wrong with it?" Schultz asked.

Newkirk shook his head without looking up. "No, it's fine."

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his head to look Schultz straight in the eye. "You really think Klink's gonna let me have it tomorrow," he said in a strained voice.

"I don't know. Now be a good boy and do as I said," the German tried to command.

"Yes, Dad," Newkirk grinned broadly, "but you're not gonna tuck me in, are you?"

Schultz curled his lips and shook his head at the Engländer. "Good night. I see you in the morning."

"You on duty again tomorrow?" Newkirk asked.

The Feldwebel groaned loudly. "Yes. Thanks to you and your nightly activities, it was a long night. I should have been off duty long ago."

"I hope you get paid overtime," Newkirk replied with his most disarming smile.

"Jolly joker!" Schultz grumbled, "Jolly joker." He tossed the blanket on the cot and locked the door behind him.

Newkirk was alone again in his bleak cell.

~ccOɔɔ~

"I hope Klink makes it short today," Carter said. He stood at his assigned place next to Kinch and nervously shifted from one foot to the other.

"Please, don't do that. It drives me crazy," Roades muttered.

Carter stopped fidgeting and looked with big eyes to his left where the Irishman was standing. "Don't do what?"

"Repoooooort!" Kommandant Klink bellowed.

Schultz saluted as sharply as his corpulence allowed it and hastened to utter, "All present or accounted for."

"_Gut_. Get Corporal Newkirk from the cooler, " Klink snapped at Schultz. "Colonel Hogan, report to my office," he added in an equally unfriendly tone. "Dismissed!" the Kommandant yelled, turned on his heels and hurried back to his office.

"That was short," Carter declared, not in the least impressed.

"Good luck, sir," Kinch said softly. A choir of good lucks and Godspeeds addressed at Colonel Hogan joined in. Hogan turned to his men, a perky smile displayed on his face.

"A winner's smile," Keagan Roades whispered to himself. _It seems to say: Don't worry boys. I can handle everything._

"Hey, Roades, I've got a job for you."

The Irish Sergeant turned around. Kinch, Carter and LeBeau gazed at him.

"Pardon?"

"I've got a job for you," Kinch repeated, "We'd like to talk to Newkirk for a sec and need a little diversion for Schultz. You up for it?

"Me?" Roades asked.

"Yes, you," Kinch confirmed. "Well?"

"Come on. We don't have all day," murmured LeBeau.

"Um, OK. Yes." Keagan Roades heard himself say before he could stop his mouth from answering. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just make sure that Schultz is distracted," LeBeau groused.

"Alright," the young man responded and ran back to Barracks 2.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Roades heard Carter's voice behind him. _Sure I'll come back, but not without some preparation. _

The Irishman rushed to his bunk and quickly snatched his two chocolate bars from his Red cross package. He ran back to the trio as fast as he could. _This is some test I'm gonna pass._

"Hey, you're back," Carter exclaimed and smiled at him.

"Here comes Schultz with Newkirk," LeBeau announced.

The group of four sallied towards the Feldwebel and encircled him.

"What are you doing here? No monkey business," Schultz whined.

"Now," Kinch hissed to Roades.

The young man took a sharp breath and blocked Schultz's way. "Hey Sergeant, got a minute?"

"No, not now. I'm in a hurry. You know that," the bulky guard said and tried gently to push Roades aside, but the Irishman didn't move.

"That's a pity," the RAF Sergeant remarked with a smirk. He held a chocolate bar in his hand and waved it back and forth directly before Schultz's eyes.

"_Schokolade, mmmmm, lecker_," the huge man uttered and licked his lips. He grasped at the chocolate bar, but Roades withdrew it too quickly. _Not subtle, but sure does the trick._

"Not so fast. But I'm willing to part with this lovely piece of _chocolat_, though, if you're willing to trade," the Irishman explained, smiling. _Sorry mate, nothing's for free._

Schultz contorted his lips to a pout. "What do you want?" he asked warily.

"An apple."

"I don't think so." The Feldwebel took two steps to the side just to find Roades standing in the way again.

Keagan Roades' grin broadened. "Well, your loss. Just think about it. Apples grow on trees everywhere in Germany. Real chocolate on the other hand. This is not that _ersatz_ stuff you've got, but the real thing. What's easier to get?"

Feldwebel Schultz eyed the chocolate that his negotiation opponent held up. "Alright. An apple for _Schokolaaade_."

Roades handed over the chocolate bar and in the next second produced another one out of his pocket. He pretended to rip the paper very carefully and slowly and waited for the German to stop him.

"What about this one?" an aghast Schultz requested to know.

The RAF soldier tipped his head to the side and looked at the chocolate. "This one?"

"Want do you want for it? Another apple?" the Feldwebel asked.

The Irishman shook his head, "I don't think so. This is all I've got."

Schultz sighed, "What do you want then?"

"How about, let's say two tomatoes."

"Two? Why two? It's only one chocolate bar," the big guard protested.

"True, but the other one was hazelnut, I'm allergic to it." Roades waved the bar in front of Schultz's face and made his eyes follow it to and fro. "This one is pure chocolate."

"Schuuuuuultz! Come here immediately! _Dummkopf_!" Klink yelled across the compound. The sudden roar made the Irish Sergeant startle.

"Agreed," the heavy man gasped and snapped the chocolate out of Roades's hand. Schultz made a turn and sought out Newkirk in the little gathering of prisoners. The Feldwebel took the Englishman by the arm again and asked, "What monkey business have you been getting up to?"

Newkirk opened his mouth, but Feldwebel Schultz cut him off, "Please don't tell me."

The Corporal grinned broadly, Schultz on the other hand didn't look very happy. "What are you smiling about? No, please don't tell me."

Letting the heavy-bodied guard march him off, Newkirk turned around and waved his hand. "Cheers, chaps."

"For a moment I really wondered if you'd come back when you suddenly ran off," Carter said to Roades.

The RAF Sergeant shrugged and explained, "Yeah, I thought with Schultz's size, chocolate was a good bet. I went to get some."

"You're bang on target," Carter agreed.

"You gave your chocolate to Schultz? All of it?" LeBeau asked.

"Why yes, but I traded it," Roades said.

Carter shuffled closer, "Traded it?"

"For an apple and two tomatoes. It was fun, actually," the Irishman stated, a satisfied smile on his face.

Kinch patted the young man on the back. "Nicely done, Roades. Now let's go and listen to what Klink has to say." The American Sergeant opened his arms and herded Carter and LeBeau to Barracks 2. Kinch stopped and turned back to the Irishman, "Care to come, too? You will get your apple and tomatoes later."

"Really?" the RAF soldier asked and hurried to catch up with them.

"What did you think?" Carter wanted to know.

"Think about what?" Roades repeated a little puzzled.

"You really can't trust the other guards," the Tech Sergeant explained patiently while they entered Colonel Hogan's office, "they are not nice people, mostly just goons, but Schultz will get you your stuff. He's different."

"That's right, with Schultz it's different, he has no backbone," LeBeau chimed in and laughed.

"But he has a heart," Carter rectified and dramatically touched his breast pocket. "What's this," he exclaimed.

"Carter, don't play games," Kinch said and plugged in the coffee pot.

"I don't play games." The younger Sergeant made a face. He reached in his breast pocket and extracted a game of cards. His expression lightened, "Hey, that's Newkirk's."

Kinch and LeBeau immediately felt in every pocket they had. Kinch produced the Englishman's pencil sharpener and LeBeau pulled out his lock picks.

"Cheeky, _Pierre_," LeBeau acknowledged.

The coffee pot sounded a whirring.

"Shhh, listen," Kinch said.

* * *

Thank you, Venea Taur, for the grand help. :D

Translations:

Pfefferminze, Melisse und Kamille: peppermint, melissa (lemon balm), chamomile

das fehlte gerade noch: that's all we needed

gut: good

Schokolade, lecker: chocolate, delicious

Dummkopf: imbecile


End file.
